brunette bombshell 🪽

With the look in your eye he half expected you to beg him if he were to say no. But he didn't, he stood up silently and you both headed off to Craig's room. He had been sitting in the corner upright when you had settled back onto the bed, but you had quickly asked him to lay beside you, “Just until I fall asleep! I promise.” You did appear a bit embarrassed when Pope slid up beside you, your soft thighs uncovered from the thin sheets, too hot you told him. Hard to believe considering you were wearing next to nothing. When a few minutes had passed and you were still tossing and fidgeting around he sighed, “Never gonna fall asleep if you keep moving around like that.” “I can’t help it! Craig usually helps me fall asleep…” “Alright, what does he do?” “Why?” “Tell me how he gets you to sleep and I’ll do it.” You looked at him, a bit sheepish, the soft curve of your cunt peeking out from under the night dress that shifted up your body, “I don’t think we can do that.” “Why not?” you looked at him through your fine lashes and Pope could feel his pulse quickening. His idiot brother wouldn’t be there to do it, so who else. “Don’t you want to sleep?” You nodded quickly. “Then tell me what you need.”

It’s cute how helplessly you rut against Pope's thigh, fingers furling into the taut fabric of his button down, hips rubbing your cunt back and forth on the muscle of his leg. Your lips break in soft mewls that fall right up against Pope's ear, the thin fabric of your panties sticky with your arousal, cunt dragging against the veil of fabric, the rigid denim of Pope's jeans bumping against the aching bundle. Pope is mystified watching you get off on his thigh, hands bound to the plush of your hips, pushing and pulling you back and forth whenever your movements falter,  “Come on, you wanted my help,” he murmurs, your meek whines bubbling up in your throat from the ache in your thighs, “Gotta work your way through it like a big girl.” Your chin juts up and down, rolling your pussy over his thigh, feeling Pope's fingers press against the band of your panties, his eyes flitting over your face wired into a pleading grimace, “What is it? This not enough for you?” “Wanna—mm—wanna use your fingers, can I? Please, just a little,” Pope groans at the whininess of your tone, thick fingers slipping under the pink bow at the front of your panties, “Alright, alright,” he circles your clit once, watching the way your hips stutter into his open palm, “But you gotta do it all by yourself. You wanna cum then you’re gonna ride my fingers until you do, you got it?” 

the music started again. 

you didn't bother looking up right away.

you already knew what you'd see.

jaafar moved through the same section he'd been working on for most of the night, his reflection following him across the mirrored wall. every now and then, he'd stop to watch the playback on his phone before trying again. you couldn't see what he was seeing. to you, it had looked good hours ago. 

jaafar strongly disagreed.

a fond smile pulled at your mouth as you watched him pause halfway through the choreography and mutter something to himself. 

his white shirt had long since lost the battle against rehearsal. the fabric clung damply to his skin, and a few curls had fallen loose across his forehead. 

drawing your knees up to your chest, you rested your chin on your folded arms, content to watch him from across the room. 

the track looped back to the beginning. jaafar moved easily with it, already counting under his breath before the choreography fully began. his feet seemed to know where to go before he even thought about it. every movement flowed naturally into the next, sharp one second and smooth the next. 

you weren't a dancer. half the time you couldn't tell what he was trying to fix. but you liked watching him anyway.

maybe it was the way he got so focused that he forgot about everything else around him. maybe it was the little habits you'd learned by heart after sitting through enough rehearsals.

the way he'd bite the inside of his cheek when he was concentrating, or the way his hand would automatically push his curls back whenever they fell into his eyes. 

or maybe you just liked looking at him. 

across the room, jaafar spun before coming to a stop, shaking his head at himself almost instantly. 

you smiled.

he was cute when he got like this.

instead of reaching for his phone again, jaafar lingered where he was, clearly debating whether he could get away with checking it one more time. 

you tilted your head. "i think you've earned a break."

a breathless laugh escaped him. "have i?" he asked, tilting his head back at you with his hands resting on his hips. 

“yes. my feet are hurting just watching you dance for this long.” 

he laughed, the sound softer this time, but his gaze still flickered toward his phone before returning to you. 

“don’t even think about it,” you warned playfully.

his mouth twitched into a grin. holding both hands up in surrender, he finally made his way over to your corner of the room.

“you know what?” he said. “i could go for a snack.”

he crouched down in front of you, reaching for your hand. you placed it in his without hesitation. his hands were warm against yours from dancing, his thumbs drifting lazily over the back of your hand as he looked at you.

you tried very hard to ignore the flutter in your chest.

“we could go down to the vending machines and pick something out,” you offered. 

“there’s a convenience store just down the street, baby. these vending machines aren’t gonna cut it,” he said with a dramatic sigh. 

you laughed.

“i like the way you think.”

“also, fresh air,” he added.

jaafar stood up, keeping his hands locked with yours as he effortlessly pulled you up after him.

“best decision you’ve made all day,” you teased.

he rolled his eyes, smiling as he reached for his sweater and pulled it on.

the last of spring lingered in the air, cool enough to feel against your skin but softened by the promise of summer. jaafar walked beside you with his hand locked in yours, your fingers laced together as he lightly swung your joined hands between you. 

the streetlights cast soft pools of gold across the quiet sidewalk.

you couldn't help looking at him.

maybe it was the lighting, or maybe it was just him, but the glow from the lamps caught along the sharp edges of his features, softening some parts of him while making others stand out even more. 

either way, he looked so handsome. 

he caught you staring after a minute of walking in deep thought. you flashed him with a grin, which he returned.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teased, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

you laughed despite the painfully lame joke.

“okay,” you said cheerfully.

the sudden agreement caught him off guard.

before he could question it, you slipped your hand from his and stepped behind him, reaching up. you grasped his shoulders and gave him a small tug to make him stop walking.

jaafar caught on quickly, crouching without a word.

the moment you hopped onto his back, his hands settled beneath your thighs to steady you. you wrapped one arm securely around his shoulders while using the other to dig your phone out of your pocket. 

opening the camera app, you stretched your arm out in front of you. jaafar leaned in beside you, the two of you flashing the cheesiest, most ridiculous smiles you could manage at the screen

the automatic flash went off without warning.

jaafar squeezed his eyes shut as the camera snapped the picture.

you pulled the phone back to look at the result and immediately burst into giggles, turning the screen so he could see.

you looked fine– a wide grin stretched across your face, your eyes squinting slightly from smiling too hard.

jaafar, on the other hand, looked ridiculous.

his eyes were squeezed shut from the flash, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead, and a dopey grin stretched across his face that somehow matched your own. 

“delete that,” he said through a laugh, letting go of one of your thighs to make a grab for your phone. 

you saw it coming and pulled it out of reach before he could get anywhere near it, quickly tucking it back into your pocket.

“baby!” he laughed.

“nope. that’s officially my new favourite picture of us.” 

“i’m deleting that when you fall asleep tonight.”

“you better not,” you said, lightly whacking his arm.

as the glowing neon sign of the convenience store finally came into view, you shifted on his back, preparing to hop down so you could walk inside normally. 

instead, jaafar's grip only tightened around your legs. you turned your head to look at him with a confused expression, which he completely ignored. 

“put me down,” you laughed.

“nope.”

a mischievous spark flashed through his eyes before he turned his head and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. he bounced you slightly on his back as he adjusted his grip.

“jaafar, seriously. we're going inside,” you whisper-shouted, already fighting a laugh as you buried your face against the side of his neck. his cologne had faded a little over the course of the night, softened now by hours of dancing.

“i know," he replied, his voice rumbling low against your chest. 

he pushed open the glass door with his shoulder, the bell above it letting out a cheerful ding that seemed far too energetic for nearly one in the morning. 

inside, the store was bathed in that familiar, unforgivingly bright fluorescent lighting.

the cashier behind the counter barely glanced up with a bored look before returning to whatever was on his phone. 

“see? no one cares," jaafar murmured, though he was grinning so wide his cheeks were practically pressing into yours. 

“you're ridiculous," you giggled, burying your face in jaafar’s shoulder as he carried you straight toward the candy aisle. your feet swung idly with each step.

he stopped in front of the shelves and immediately reached for a bright yellow bag. 

reaching out with one hand while keeping a steady grip on your thigh with the other, he snagged a bag of sour patch kids and shook them right next to your ear so the sugar rattled inside. 

“the best part of the night, right here," he said, a genuine, boyish grin pulling at his lips. 

“you're going to burn a hole in your stomach eating those this late," you joked, leaning over his shoulder to scan the rows. your fingers wrapped around the packaging of your own absolute favorite snack, pulling it down.

“the sour wakes me up," he argued, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "what's your excuse?"

“i don't need an excuse. i'm just keeping you company,” you countered, nudging his cheek with your own.

jaafar let out another one of his breathless laughs. he turned around on his heel, keeping you securely on his back as he walked the few steps over to the drink cooler to grab a couple of bottles to wash down the sugar. 

the cashier scanned everything with the same bored rhythm he’d had since you’d walked in, the register beeping softly in the quiet store.

“reach into my pocket,” jaafar said, tilting his head back slightly. “my wallet's in there.” 

you nodded as you leaned down to slide your hand into his pocket, pulling out his wallet.

as the cashier muttered the total, you flipped it open, found his card, and tapped it against the reader for him. the machine chimed as you slipped the wallet back into your own pocket for safekeeping.

“teamwork,” you whispered in his ear.

his smile widened at that as he leaned forward just enough for you to grab the snacks from the counter before turning back toward the door. 

as soon as the glass door swung open and the cool, crisp night air hit you again, jaafar finally let you slide down his back, your sneakers hitting the pavement.

you felt a sudden wave of peaceful contentment wash over you. the city was so quiet, like the dark streets belonged entirely to the two of you. 

jaafar didn't even wait to get back to the studio.

before you had even walked ten steps from the storefront, you heard the sharp tear of plastic. 

he reached into the bag, his long fingers pulling out a red sour patch kid.

instead of eating it himself, he held it up to your lips.

“first one’s yours,” he said softly, nudging it towards your mouth.

you smiled and leaned forward, taking the candy from his fingers. the familiar sweet-and-sour flavor burst across your tongue as you chewed.

jaafar watched you for a second, a quiet, satisfied chuckle escaping him when you gave him an approving nod.

only then did he grab a couple for himself. 

“good, right?" he murmured. 

you nodded.

he shoved the candy bag into his jacket pocket and slipped his fingers back into yours, lacing them together.

he slowed his pace to match yours perfectly, lifting your joined hands just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to the back of your knuckles. 

by the time you made it back to the studio, the midnight chill was easily forgotten.

jaafar pushed the heavy door open, and the quiet warmth of the building welcomed you both back inside.

the music from earlier was still paused on his phone, the empty floor and the wall of mirrors exactly as you had left them. 

instead of heading back to your corner by the wall, jaafar tugged gently on your hand, pulling you right into the center of the room. 

“c’mere,” he said, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he reached over to hit play on his phone. 

“jaafar, no, I told you I'm not a dancer," you laughed, trying to pull back, but he didn't let you get far. 

“doesn't matter. just follow me," he murmured. 

the music started up again, a smooth, slow rhythm filling the empty space.

jaafar wrapped one arm securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him, while his other hand kept yours held high. he started to move, guiding you through a relaxed, effortless sway that had absolutely nothing to do with the sharp, intense choreography he’d been stressing over all night. 

much to your surprise, it actually went okay. jaafar steered you with a gentle pressure at your waist, guiding you in wherever you needed to go next.

“see? you're doing great," he teased, spinning you out under his arm before pulling you right back into his space. 

"okay, this isn't that ba– shit!"

the words barely left your mouth before jaafar dipped you, arm locked around your waist to keep you from falling. 

your grip on him locked around him until he pulled you upright again, nearly stepping on your own feet.

"jaafar!"

his laugh echoed through the empty studio as he pulled you securely against him.

“i hate you.”

“no, you don’t,” he countered, his voice full of amusement. 

“i do. my life flashed before my eyes,” you complained, though the grin stretching across your face completely ruined any attempt at sounding serious.

you rested your hands on his shoulders, your heart thumping a little faster.

partly from the sudden dip.

partly from how incredibly close he was holding you. 

“i had you the whole time. I'd never let you fall," he murmured. the playful edge in his voice softened just a bit, his thumbs tracing quiet, comforting circles through the fabric of your shirt.

the music around you began to fade out, the last notes drifting through the studio before disappearing altogether.

silence settled over the room, but neither of you moved.

the playful banter trailed off into a quiet, breathless smile as jaafar looked down at you. the studio lights caught the damp curls falling across his forehead, casting a warm glow over the sharp angles of his face. his gaze drifted down to your lips before rising back to your eyes, a sudden, heavy tenderness settling between you. 

“i love you,” he whispered.

before you could even respond, he leaned down and closed the small distance between you. 

the kiss was soft at first, a gentle, lingering pressure that tasted faintly of the sweet candy you’d just shared. a quiet sigh escaped you, your eyes fluttering shut as you melted into him. jaafar’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you a fraction closer as the kiss deepened. his lips were incredibly soft, moving against yours with a slow, deliberate sweetness that made your head spin. 

one of his hands slid up from your waist, his long fingers trailing up your spine before tangling gently in the hair at the nape of your neck, holding you close.

the kiss was soft, slow, entirely unhurried, and full of quiet affection that left you completely breathless.

every time he pulled back just an inch, his lips would brush yours again, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to fully break the contact. 

when he finally did let you catch your breath, he rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning across your cheek as his thumb gently traced your jawline. 

“thanks for staying up with me," he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, intimate register that always made your heart do a dangerous little flip.

"even if you are keeping that blackmail photo." 

a quiet laugh slipped out of you.

“oh, it's never leaving my phone," you smiled, your voice a little breathy as you leaned into his touch. 

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

he'd sooooo put that pic as his wallpaper later

SHE WAS SITTING on the sofa, leafing through a magazine she had picked up out of sheer curiosity. Michael had rolled his eyes before saying she was about to read some garbage. She had completely ignored him ━ she knew when something was worth her attention and this... Oh boy, it definitely was worth every second.

Thank goodness he had not glanced at the cover, otherwise he would have realised what she was up to. 

Michael was strolling alongside her, one hand idly stroking her leg, clad in a simple pair of jeans, his eyes fixed on a film he probably knew inside out. 

"Tell me."

She snapped the magazine shut in one go, her eyes scrutinising her boyfriend’s profile with intense focus.

"Mm?" he hummed, too absorbed by the screen.

"I want you to be honest with me," she sat up, crossing her legs, now facing him directly, his hand falling back onto the sofa. "I promise not to get upset."

The mere fact that she was moving away from him ━ and talking about not getting angry ━ was enough for Michael to grab the remote, switch off the telly, and focus on his girlfriend. His heart was suddenly beating abnormally faster than usual and he did not like the way she was currently looking at him.

"... About what?"

A mischievous smile played on the young woman’s lips, her tongue was covering part of her teeth, which ━ based on Michael’s months of experience ━ did not bode well at all. A manicured hand grabbed the infamous garbage and waved it gently in front of his eyes. 

"Have fans ever asked you to sign their chest?"

Michael blinked. Had he... Had he heard correctly?

"I'm sorry ━ what?"

"Their chest," she repeated. "You know ━ breasts," she ran a hand over her own, as if to illustrate her point. 

His eyes followed her movement despite himself. The red of her nail polish contrasted perfectly with the black satin top she was wearing, the lace of her bra visible against her skin. His gaze returned to her amused face. 

"Why are you..." Michael let out a breathy laugh, suddenly feeling shy. "Oh, no! No, that never happened, why are you asking me this━"

"Mm," she nodded slowly. "Interesting."

"What's interesting, what does that mean━" he stopped, looked at the magazine, suspicion dawning. "... What is this about?"

"What is what about, my love?"

"That magazine."

She let out a laugh before leaning forward slightly. Her hands glided up her body, two fingers brushing aside a strand of hair that was about to obstruct his view, before coming to rest on her cleavage. She slowly slid it down, the satin cascading over her bare skin before fully revealing the lace of her bra.

"Can I have an autograph, Mr. Jackson?" she asked sweetly, as a fan would, but those words in her own mouth sounded sinful.

He stayed staring, his mouth opening and closing every second. The room was quiet and she was looking at him with those beautiful eyes, pleading with him to do as she had asked, while he sat there with his brain completely useless.

For a simple April evening, the air was extremely warm, Michael thought suddenly.

"I━" he stopped, then tried again. "That’s not even how they call me━" she raised an eyebrow. "You're insane..." he murmured, pressing his hand over his face, palm flat against his own forehead.

"So... Is that a no?" she pouted.

Michael made a sound and dropped his hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he chuckled ━ and that reaction seemed to delight her even further.

"You are so━"

"Come on, baby━"

"Stop it!" he grabbed a pillow, putting it over her face.

"Please, baby! I even have the marker ready!" she admitted, removing the pillow from her.

"You have what now?"

Her eyes told him where to look at. His gaze dropped before he could stop it ━ there it was ━ nestled against the lace, the black marker sitting there like it had always belonged. How did he have missed it?

Michael looked away... looked back... looked away again.

She reached for the marker and took it out, holding it between two fingers.

"Okay so..." she started pointing at a specific place on her left breast. "Right here ple━"

"I don't need━there's no━please stop pointing━"

"Now that I think about it ━ your signature is quite long... perhaps I should━" she made a movement to remove her bra.

"Oh my God."

"Stop acting like you never saw me naked before, Michael! You’re ruining the mood!"

"That is completely different and you know it!"

"Do I?"

"Yes!" he threw his head back briefly, the laugh escaping before he could stop it. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes.

"Obviously," Michael repeated, shaking his head, but the corner of his mouth told a different story.

Biting her lips, and without breaking eye contact, she brought both hands up slowly and pressed them together against her chest. She raised an eyebrow.

Michael’s jaw clenched.

"You’re… you’re cheating."

"So... Will you please give me an autograph?" she pouted sweetly.

"You've been━" he let out another laugh. "Give me that."

Michael reached over and plucked the marker from her fingers before she could react, holding it away from her for a moment just to have the upper hand for one single second. She beamed at him as he uncapped it.

"Stay still."

She did as she was told as her boyfriend bent over her with such a focused expression that she had to look at the ceiling immediately to not laugh. His tongue appeared between his teeth, his brow furrowed slightly as if he was actually painting a work of art over her. The cold tip of the marker over her breast made her shiver and her eyes fell back right on his face, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"… Couldn’t have asked for an autograph on a paper like everyone else," he mumbled.

"Where’s the fun in that?"

A second later, Michael sat back and capped the marker as she looked down and smiled brightly.

"That’s so hot!" she beamed, genuinely delighted. "Okay I need a picture."

"You need a what?"

"Picture. For proof," she repeated like it was obvious as she stood up.

"Proof…?"

"That I was the first ━ keep up, baby!" she exclaimed, searching for the Polaroid.

"There is no━hey, come back here!"

Michael caught her by the wrist, pulling her back as she landed against him, laughing. He joined her as her back settled against his chest. She tilted her head up, her lips brushing against his jaw.

"Want to do something else for me?"

"Haven’t you embarrassed me enough, woman?"

She chuckled once more before turning to face him, both hands pressing lightly against his chest, pushing him back until he sat down on the couch.

"I still want a picture though…" she spoke, her fingers found the hem of her top. "Perhaps you could help me take one."

She pulled it over her head in one slow, easy motion and tossed it gently at his face. She smelled of something sweet and when Michael looked up at her ━ at his own autograph ━ his tongue dragged slowly across his bottom lip before catching it between his teeth.